


A Waiting Game

by AmateurScribes



Series: Whumptober 2019 [27]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Prompt Fic, Ransom, Self-Esteem Issues, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-05 04:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: Grif's sick and tired of getting pulled into bullshit constantly- all he asks for isonevacation, is that too much to ask of the universe?





	A Waiting Game

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh, I had no idea how to do this one, mainly becomes I'm very tired. And for a second I felt burn-out but I slapped that shit away because there are literally only four days left, I'd rather die than trip at the finish line I'm literally so close.
> 
> For the duration of this event, all mistakes are my own.

Grif can openly admit that he's seen a  _ lot _ of movies in his lifetime, probably far too many for what can be considered good for him.

Genre doesn't particularly matter to him, when you're bored out of your mind you'll watch  _ anything- _ as long as it's free to do so.

So it's safe to say that he's seen enough movies that involved people being kidnapped and ransomed. It's practically one of the more popular cliche's, and he had no idea about the validity of scenes like those years prior.

But as he stares at the strangely armored goons holding their Battle Rifles near against the temples of his forehead, he starts to suspect that maybe it's such a broad concept that some of those movies might have gotten it right.

Thing is, he has no idea who  _ any _ of these people are, and none of them have spoken to him or each other- but for all he knew, they had secure comm channel that they were communicating exclusively on.

And Grif's not a fucking idiot, he knows when to sit still and be quiet, and now is definitely one of those times. Honestly, he could probably get away with just straight up falling asleep, and no one would notice- he's wearing his helmet for God's sake.

And that doesn't bother him because, hello, less work for him.

That doesn't mean that he won't think about just what the hell was happening, and what exactly these people were trying to get out of this. No one's telling him anything, not even threatening his life.

Grif doesn't even know how he got captured, the last thing he remembered was those  _ assholes _ taking off for a completely different asshole who should have stayed dead.

Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't understand the purpose of the armed guard if nobody was going to come in and interrogate him. He's literally just sitting in this poorly lit room, what did they think he was gonna do? Escape his binds and kick their asses? Last he checked, he had orange armor and not  _ teal _ armor- he wasn't some fancy Freelancer that could free himself without even trying.

Despite this, he doesn't get the impression that this group is unorganized or incompetent. Had he not been so apathetic, maybe he would have been concerned. But as it stood, he had literally nothing else to do with his life, so maybe this could provide some kind of entertainment. He'd figure out a way out here, eventually at least- sneak out when they least expected it, crafting a false sense of complacency to get them to lower their guards and-

Finally something happens, and someone knew enters the holding area, wearing a distinct variation of the armor that the guards are wearing, letting Grif know via visual clues that this person was likely the head of the whole operation, and she stops just a few feet in front of him, announcing, "We know your worth." 

"Really? Because if it's the amount of money I have in my pocket's right now, then I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but a paper clip and thirty-six cents aren’t going to get you far," he's proud of himself for keeping his voice steady. Grif's sure that if anyone had shown even just a small sign of aggression earlier he'd probably be pretty freaked out, even a little scared.

He was on his own for this, after all, he just had to keep his head in the game- simple.

"Funny," the boss said dryly. "But no, we're referring to how you and your companions are loaded. How could you not be, you're intergalactic heroes."

"But we're really bad at managing our money," his mind jumps to how they spent almost all of the profits from selling out to Hollywood. "Also, we generally don't get paid for saving lives, that's kind of the whole point about making the  _ selfless _ sacrifice."

"Doesn't matter," she shrugged her shoulders. "What you represent has value, and I don't doubt that your  _ friends _ would pay a hefty price to get you back. You all care for each other  _ so _ much after all."

Pursing his lips to the side, he feels like he should  _ really _ tell her about what she and her men had interrupted- Grif's own beach pity party, wallowing in his own misery and rolling about in the sand with a bottle of the strongest alcohol found in the base on hand-

And now it's sorta making sense on when these assholes had an opportunity to snatch up his pitiful ass.

"I warned you," he opts to say instead of calling her an idiot or laughing harshly in her face.

"As do many others, and yet I've made a profit every time without capture," she rebuts. "Chin up, try to look miserable from your body language, we're making the warning message now."

Rolling his eyes, he sits and makes faces safely from behind his visor, wondering just how this obnoxious asshole managed to get away with this operation because her message was corny as fuck- coming straight out of any one of those movies that Grif's watched-

And when that's done and over with, she leaves so that her men can go and send it to the others- of which, he wonders just how she was going to try and accomplish  _ that _ in of itself, not even he knew how to contact them now where ever they were.

From then it's a waiting game, her waiting for a response- that Grif doesn't doubt that she's never going to get- and Grif waiting to see if they'll slip up and he'll be able to escape on his lonesome, someone to miraculously and impossible rescue him- unlikely- or for her to actually get an answer to her demands.

But Grif knows how much he's worth, and it's certainly nothing on par with what that disillusioned woman was expecting. Simple as that.

He's not surprised when there's no response within the week- messages across the galaxy were hard to transmit and receive- and he starts to get a sour taste in his mouth around the second week and by the time a month rolls by he's resigned and affirmed with what he figured about the others.

Which is to be expected- Grif quit. Why should they care about what happens to him now? He's not one of them anymore.

It's after two days of being tied up and demonstrating that he's  _ really _ not going to try and escape, that they release him from his bonds and just imprison him instead. So he's given enough room to walk around- whenever the idea possesses him- and stretch his stiff limbs out.

Plus, they give him his meager meals in the secluded room, so there's no fear of people watching him whilst he ate, which would be creepy as shit, and possibly an appetite killer- only possibly, this was Grif after all.

And he spends the majority of his time just lying down on the shitty low set cot that they supplied the jail cell with, sleeping or letting his thoughts wander. Which is what he expects that he would have done had he never left Iris.

Or maybe he would have snapped without human interaction. At least here he got to see a few guards sometimes in a day when they went through their rotations. 

Who does Iris have? Literally no one.

He hasn't seen the boss though after that initial interaction. Which doesn't matter to him- she was cocky as all fuck, and self-assertive assholes like her pissed him off.

Grif stopped giving a shit about how long it's been- he gives himself a pat on his back a few weeks in, because somehow he managed to learn all the names of the guards, and while they don't technically respond back to his one-sided talks he feels like they're listening in and amusing themselves- so he figures that when the boss- her name was  _ Katia _ apparently, but most of the guards seemed indifferent towards her as a person, ouch- stormed into the holding cell like she just got back from being set on fire.

"Why," she hissed, fists clenched tightly. Grif doesn't know what the woman looks like underneath her helmet, but he can sort of imagine a light brown-haired woman with darker brown eyes with bags and stress lines all developed during this  _ one _ operation snarling and ignoring the twitching of her eye in annoyance. "Why haven't they  _ answered?" _

Shrugging, he doesn't look up from his cot, and his eyes are even closed as he says, "Fuck if I know."

"They're your friends," and her voice cracks in confusion, and wow, she seems really hung up on this. "We're holding you hostage- keeping you prisoner!- and yet, no response, no indication that they even  _ got _ the ransom notice,  _ nothing!?" _

He takes pity on this poor, stressed, woman and he really should put her out of her misery, let her know to hedge her bets elsewhere- Chorus would have been a better idea actually, why they didn't try there first, he didn't know, because it'd be good blackmail and forcing of an entire planet's hands to their whims, but what did he know?

Oh wait, he did know  _ one _ thing.

"As I said earlier," he's tired, and he doesn't know why he knew this going into quitting the team. "I'm worth nothing to them, so you just wasted your time."

**Author's Note:**

> I have a weakness for incompetent random nameless groups that just fail spectacularly at trying to capture the Reds and Blues, it's just so satisfying to write, I don't know.
> 
> If you'd like to contact me, you can find me at either of my Tumblr's: @agent-murica (main) and @amateurscribes (writing)!


End file.
